The Eighth Summer
by The Almighty Cheez It
Summary: "It was seven years, seven summers of watching you, pining after you, and loving you, all for nothing. And five years later, here you are... still not one bit in love with me too." Unrequited love at its finest, divided into nine parts.


Brilliant sunlight radiated through the half-closed blinds as he was kissed by consciousness, as his eyelids fluttered from the stark contrast against the darkness in the room. An icy blue eye squinted in the direction of the window, as overly-plump lips parted to let a yawn pass. The twenty-two year old bachelor reluctantly threw off the blankets that covered his large frame before sliding over the side of the bed. The digital clock on the oak nightstand read 9:30A.M. in blaring green letters and the man sighed. Though it was quite early for a Saturday, he had things he needed to do that day.

One hour and two cups of black coffee later, Dudley Dursley, dressed in a the stereotypical wealthy man's suit, with ironed cuffs and black buttons along the front, shut the door of the shiny red Mustang that sat parked in the parking lot of the community mall. Using the clicker to lock the beauty, Dudley straightened his tie and proceeded to enter the mall. He was hoping that the early hour of the morning would prevent any encounters with obnoxious teenagers, but still he prepared himself for bustling children and gothic-looking adolescents. This was one reason why Dudley hated the shopping mall; the oddest sorts always came around here, and it shocked (and disturbed) him to know that _he_was the one who looked out of place in his nice suit. Still, though, his style was proficient for somebody who worked in the medical field like he did. As a children's dentist, who particularly loved dealing with cavities, Dudley made lots of money.

Dudley had been invited to yet another wedding (this had to be the fifth, at least, in the last two years), so his first stop was the urban furniture store. Dudley hated associating himself with this type of atmosphere – it was far from classy and quite embarrassing – but Gordon Brighton, the groom and a good friend of Dudley's since childhood, had threatened to chop off Dudley's gangly bits if he didn't get a good present for his artsy, urbanized fiancée. Alas, Dudley took a deep breath and headed inside.

The woman at the counter was enough to make Dudley cringe as he walked past. She had at least four piercings just on the top half of her face, and her clothes clashed in every possible way. Dudley was almost frightened that she would hop over the desk and jump him, with the way that she was glaring in his direction. The music blaring through the storewide speakers didn't help much, either; in fact, he was starting to get a small headache from the pounding techno noises. Dudley tried to ignore the music and the disturbing shopkeeper, but just as he was about to examine a set of dining utensils that he thought Gordon's fiancée might like, the last bit of his tolerance for the store was snipped off by the next person that entered.

It was a teenage boy, perhaps sixteen or seventeen at the most, who had about twice the amount of piercings than the lady at the counter did. The waistband of his pants seemed to reach his knees, and his shoes – which resembled unattractive highlighters – were perhaps three sizes too big. The boy reeked of cigarettes, which Dudley could tell from his position on the other side of the store, and the first thing that the kid did was sit down on an astonishingly horrid armchair that had about seventeen different colors on it. Dudley thought he might faint. How had he ever imagined that he could purchase something in a place like this?

After high-tailing it out of there, Dudley straightened his tie once more and walked as far from the store as he could. He passed a toy store with horribly energized children mulling about, a chocolate store which he promised himself he'd return to later, and the food court itself, to which he sat down in a chair in simple resignation and pulled out his cell phone. It was time to call Piers for some help. Dialing his best friend's number, Dudley waited as the phone rang once – twice – three times – when finally his friend answered. A short conversation settled Dudley's nerves, as Piers had agreed to help Dudley.

Twenty minutes later, the two single men were perusing the mall with lack of luck. Girls were getting gooey-eyed for Piers, the better looking of the two, while Dudley stood next to him, stiff and upset at the fact that he could not seem to find a decent gift for Gordon.

"What did you get them?" he asked his friend as they both snuck a glance inside the lingerie store they passed.

Piers shrugged, his shoulders slumped low anyway. "I gave them a set of these really weird dining utensils from a store upstairs," he admitted. "The lady that sold them to me looked like she had shoved them through her face, with all of the piercings she had." Dudley decided not to comment on the fact that he had almost bought that very thing.

Piers seemed to notice his friend's disheartened attitude, so he said, "Look, Susie likes books. Why don't you get her a book on interior decorating or something? She's into that sort of thing."

Dudley didn't look very convinced, but they turned left into the bookstore regardless. Now that he thought about it, Dudley realized that Piers' suggestion really was quite good. He browsed the books on interior decorating, his fingers tickling the spines of the texts with the boldest and brightest colors. He smiled as he pulled out a neon orange-covered book, with the title _From Suburban to Urban_. It was perfect, Dudley decided, as he flipped through the pages. He was going to buy it.

Piers walked away from the horror section when he saw Dudley had a book, and on their way to the register, Dudley suddenly felt a presence knock into him. He held out his arms instinctively and managed to prevent the person from falling over. He could not, however, prevent the rather unladylike exclamation – an animalistic sort of cross between a grunt and a shriek – that protruded from the person's mouth.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking down at the noticeably feminine form in his arms, at the same time that Piers muttered, "What the bloody hell?" His eyes glanced over in his friend's direction as he and the girl together managed to set her right back on her feet.

"I am so sorry!" she exclaimed immediately, straightening out her skirt. Dudley still could not see her face.

"It's fine, miss," he mumbled unsurely, as Piers clearly tried to get a glimpse of her. Dudley internally sighed at his friend's antics; it was so like Piers to examine a woman's breast size before anything else, even after she had nearly hurt herself falling over.

"No, really, I apologize. Let me buy that for you," she continued quite persistently, pointing at the book Dudley forgot he was holding in his hand. He looked at it blankly, then back at her, finally able to see her rosy cheeks and white teeth.

He froze.

"I'm perfectly capable of buying my own book, thanks," he spat much more venomously than he intended, his surprise on seeing this face again overruling his necessity for politeness. Even Piers finally broke his eyes away from the girl, who was absolutely not amused, to look at Dudley in confusion.

"I suppose you are, then," she said, and her voice had completely changed to one of apathy. She moved a curl out of her face, gave him a gratuitous nod for preventing her fall, and spun on her heel. Dudley didn't want her to go.

"You're Granger, right?" he called out, desperately.

She paused, but did not turn around. Dudley knew that he had startled her, but he also knew he could never forget that face.

"You're Potter's friend. You would come to the house every summer while he was in school." She did not turn. "I'm Dudley, Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin."

Finally, she turned to face him, a small "oh" forming on her lips as though she had just seen him for the first time.

"Dudley Dursley?" she reiterated unsurely, perhaps curious as to why he was so adamant on greeting her. As far as Hermione knew, Dudley had hated Harry, and because she was a friend of Harry's, she had simply assumed he had hated her too.

"Yes," he confirmed, taking a step closer, not even noticing the dumbstruck look on Piers's face. "I remember you like it was yesterday, Hermione – it is Hermione, isn't it? Yes, I never really forgot Potter's girlfriend."

"Harry was never my boyfriend, Dudley," Hermione corrected, her know-it-all demeanor sneaking into the conversation. "Simply my best friend."

"Regardless…" He waved off her comment and took such a large step toward her that she literally took a step back and almost stumbled over again. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. "I never really forgot the girl that would visit him each summer. Can you really blame me?"

* * *

><p>This is going to be part 19. It's going to be a very simple story and I know using these two is strange, but I hope you can stick with it! This story shall be quite AU, because I will make up scenes that didn't happen in the book. Enjoy, and as always, review!


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